As I Live & Breathe
by D. Taina
Summary: Oberon punished Goliath for tossing the Phoenix Gate into its own vortex by sending him into the distant past, four and a half billion years ago. It will be a long journey back to the present, if he even makes it... First chapter of many.


Timeless Love   
As I Live & Breathe 

Four and a Half Billion Years Ago  
The Beginning of Life

Excruciating pain was all the exiled gargoyle could feel after Lord Oberon flung him into oblivion itself with one blast of enormous energy, sending the gargoyle through space and time and on his way to his perpetual torment. Goliath bellowed his pain, anger, and indescribable terror as the flames of time consumed his body, mocking its might by twisting and turning it nearly to the breaking point. His bones nearly shattered into pieces, his organs nearly imploded inside his body, his eyes nearly burst from their sockets, and his screams of agony echoed throughout the eons as he traversed through the very flames of time.

Images of all that had happened in four and a half billion years flashed before his clouded eyes and his hearing, though blurred by pain beyond imagining, could capture the shriek of the Phoenix as it rose from its ashes, damning him to an eternity of suffering for his crimes. His screams echoed throughout existence, and with one last, mournful cry strangled out of his being, he flew out of the portal of time, cast away like a worthless criminal on his way to eternal damnation.

He crashed into the disfigured and fiery earth, and the jagged rocks that cut into his flesh forced him to swallow his pride to bellow his torment. After a few instants of paralyzing pain, his mind at last regained some of its focus, and after a few gasps, he could force his body back on his feet. He was agonizing, bleeding, and his mind was in a haze of instability and confusion, everything contributing to keeping him disoriented, but he would not surrender to his pain.

Once he was certain that he would not collapse, he gazed at the horizon, but his home had been replaced with an empty planet filled with nothing but lava bursting from the very bowels of the Earth, debris scattered throughout the horizon, and oceans of fire that flowed to and from every direction, plaguing the Earth with rivers of death.

"Where am I?!"

His eyes then fell upon the flames of time dancing in the sky, rapidly vanishing from his sight. Instantly, he scanned the horizon for any signs of something he could use to gain enough height to glide, but time was not on his side that night. Determined, he ran as fast as he could toward the vanishing portal, and he leapt into the air. He flapped his wings as fast as he could, forcing his being to somehow betray evolution and enable flight, so he could return home, lest he remain stranded on a barren land for the rest of eternity.

The wind refused to show compassion and Goliath fell from the sky, crashed into the ground once more, and watched helplessly as the flames of time completely vanished after one last, mighty shriek of the Phoenix.

"Do not leave me here alone!"

The horror of the situation finally dawned on him as he realized that nothing existed but he, for he had been left utterly alone in a lonely planet, abandoned for the rest of eternity, and forgotten in oblivion itself.

"I am truly alone…"

He collapsed on his knees, stabbing them with jagged rocks in the process. He whimpered as his breathing became wracked with emotional pain, his heart beat furiously and painfully against his chest, and his body shook with fear. He struggled to keep his eyes from welling with tears of horror and hopelessness, but he was barely able to, for not even the greatest of his strengths could stop pain itself from abandoning the shell that housed his soul.

"I… will… not… cry…"

He bellowed to the rivers of death that he would make Lord Oberon truly regret ever exiling him to the beginning of life. He vowed that the arrogant being would die a slow and painful death. His prosecutor would die, his triumphant laughter would echo throughout his palace, and the Third Race would mourn the loss of their king for eternity.

But then, he would have to journey through an interminable path that would take him everywhere on the Earth and yet nowhere throughout the eons; a path four and a half billion years long that showed no light at the end of the tunnel, but darkness.

Then, with a whimper, unshed tears trickled down his cheeks like the first droplets of rain before a storm. One more wheezing gasp and Goliath collapsed onto a boulder, with his face held in his bleeding hands, and wept, like he had never wept before, clawing at the boulder and the ground through his emotional agony.

He, a once mighty warrior, had been broken not by a weapon, but by the strongest of all emotions, the one emotion that could break even the strongest of souls: loneliness. Droplets of tears turned into a raging storm and he lost himself to his despair.

And so, he wept a nearly endless river of tears that drained his soul of the one thing that kept it from dying a slow death…

Hope.

Dawn

After hours of crying tears of hopelessness, which gradually changed from wailing his anger and pain, to a silent plea drowned only by tears, he was left excruciatingly weak in every aspect of his being. His mind was quickly losing the battle against insanity, the power of his will was slowly disintegrating to nothing, his eyes stung with blood and dirt, and his violent heaving had left his throat raw.

What still remained of his sanity warned him that sunrise was upon him, and that it was time to rest and cast his worries aside. He felt relieved that stone sleep, at least, could bring some measure of peace to his troubled soul.

Finally regaining some of his lost composure, he looked at the boulder he had tormented with his suffering and saw his blood and tears flowing freely down the boulder and to the earth. He sighed miserably as he searched in his mind for a purpose to exist, but he was unable to, for every available answer showed nothing but interminable wait, immeasurable torment, and an unbearable loneliness that would stay with him for billions of years.

He gazed at the horizon. The beauty of the Earth was gone, replaced by a lonely land that had yet to evolve from Hell to Paradise. There was no food, no water, and oxygen itself was scarce and nearly impossible to breathe. If he lived, then he would have to wait for billions of years, suffer through countless eons of adversity, and he would risk losing his sanity forever. If he died, then he would be at peace, for life was merely a punishment, and death was the only path that would grant him his freedom.

He wiped the tears from his eyes as he shakily stood from the ground, refusing to give in to the pain on his knees, but he was unable to, and he collapsed once more. His face showed not emotion, but the wounds from his despair, and words that betrayed everything he had once believed in escaped him in a broken, tearful whisper.

"Death is better."

He gazed at the dagger Oberon had given him, that dagger with a blade held by an agonizing Phoenix, symbolizing the crime that had sealed his destiny. He admired its wicked blade, and then reluctantly held it to his rapidly beating heart. He was determined; he had every reason to die and none to live, and he forced his mind to gather the courage needed to thrust the deadly blade into his heart, but he could not.

He accused himself of no longer being a proud warrior, but a weakling, a coward, a disgrace to all gargoyles. He gazed at the sun that would soon rise, and walked, rampant thoughts of life and death, hope and hopelessness, both plaguing and blessing his mind, but he refused to listen to what he knew was the truth.

He reached a wall in the far distance, stabbed it with his claws, and slowly but steadily climbed it as tears of shame streamed freely down his cheeks. He prayed to the stars that Elisa would be able to forgive him for taking his own life and that his second in command would be a great leader, for they needed a mighty warrior, not a weakling who would break at the first sight of doom.

A part of Goliath, the one part that had yet to be annihilated by the beginning of insanity, told him that he had to persevere, for not all hope was lost. He could survive, the Earth would soon evolve into Paradise, food and water would be abundant, and he would find Elisa again. But he would not listen to his heart, but to his despair.

He chose death over life.

Once he was high enough to catch a current of wind, he leapt off the wall, spread his mighty wings, and glided toward the horizon on weak currents of wind, toward the majestic sun that was beginning to rise. He approached it with a fierce yet humble look in his eyes, almost daring the majestic circle of fire to shatter him during the day and end his suffering once and for all. One last tear fell from his eyes as he whispered words he hoped that time itself would send to his beloved in the present.

"I am sorry…"

And the peace of stone sleep enveloped him in darkness. His stone body fell from the sky, crashed into the earth, and shattered into countless pieces that scattered all over the land, turning it into the last resting-place of the exiled one, his graveyard, his tomb, undeserving of any recognition, honors, or even a tombstone.

But, to his everlasting shame, life found a way.

His soul would not flee from his shattered body after his dishonorable act, but it remained, keeping him from joining either the angels in Heaven or the tormentors in Hell. Instead of lifeless rock, like the exiled one prayed the sun and the constellations there would be, stone skin cracked with savage force, revealing limbs of flesh and blood, disembodied, tormented, and dying.

He felt consciousness return to his being and his eyes flew open. He tried to move, but he could not feel his arms or legs, and even breathing was a strenuous task. He lifted his head weakly and saw nothing but his torso, for the rest of his body was gone. He screamed in horror and then in indescribable pain when he felt agony all over his being, and he screamed and shook with unimaginable spasms of pain as his arms, legs, tail, and wings fully regenerated and were restored to their former might in a matter of seconds.

He lay on the ground, finally in one piece, struggling to breathe, to move, anything, but he could not, for he was frozen with fear, utter fear he had never felt as powerfully in the past. Adversity finally made him realize how foolish it was to attempt to end his life, and he vowed that he would never in all his years of life attempt such a foolish feat again, no matter how dark the future looked. He would return to the present, no matter the cost, no matter the wait, no matter every single torment in this world.

He stared at the carnage he had created, not with a daring look in his eyes, but with regret, a frown, a tear, for he had no one to blame but himself for such a bloodbath.

"What have I done?"

Before he could wonder how he could survive killing himself during the day, he heard a wheezing gasp, and he immediately looked to where it came from. His eyes opened wide with horror when he noticed his disembodied head, lying on the ground amidst a graveyard of disembodied limbs, bleeding profusely, and struggling to breathe through a nonexistent trachea. Its eyes met the gargoyle's for the briefest of moments before it stopped gasping and its eyes grew distant.

The gargoyle lay there, horrified, and staring at the head in absolute horror. He quickly stumbled to his feet and staggered away from the disembodied head that had once housed his soul, his feelings, his hopes, and his dreams, among every other emotion in existence. He felt dishonored, and unworthy of being a gargoyle, or of even existing. Life never seemed so precious until he had tasted death.

He gazed at the sun that shone brightly over the horizon, the one that all gargoyles longed to witness for at least a brief moment. The last tears of shame fell as determination rose inside his being. There had to be a way to return to his home, and he would find that way, even if it took him forever and a day, for he owed it to his clan, to his human friend. He gazed at the disembodied head one more time, and then armed himself with the courage that the tears had drained from his being, and walked.

And so, his perpetual pace from one end of the Earth to the other commenced. He would watch as continents formed, as the Earth cooled, as entire constellations took shape, and as his one proud body lost its might to hunger and thirst. But he would continue his pacing, through starvation, dehydration, suffocation, insanity, exhaustion, and would only stop if he collapsed, devoid of all energy, or if stone sleep claimed him. He would crawl if he had not the strength to walk or glide, always searching for any trace of life, and striving to keep the thoughts of ending his life at bay.

But hope held on to his being by a mere strand, a strand that meant the difference between life and death for the exiled one, and he would walk for eons, for life would soon come, someday, somehow, and he would watch it grow and thrive. For the time would come, the once mighty warrior would be mighty again, and he would bring his prosecutor to justice. He would deliver the blow that would end his prosecutor's life and slaughter his being in the most gruesome of ways and his blood would stain the shores of the island and the throne he had sat upon.

Thoughts of revenge and ardent hatred for the one being that wrought him so much misery fed his soul with the strength that he needed to live. But there was also love for his beloved goddess that kept his sanity at bay when hatred threatened to consume his being and drive him to madness. He would also hope, hope for revenge, for love, for life, and for each breath that he took that he refused to take for granted.

Patience was a virtue that the exiled one would learn to treasure forever and impatience would only spell his ultimate destruction, for he was determined live and die, constantly, for his reward would soon come. And so, he walked toward infinity and back in an endless cycle of loneliness, pain, regret, denial, and despair…

Waiting.

Five Hundred Million Years Later  
The Lily of Life

A solitary figure roamed the desolate land that was then the Earth, all those billions of years ago, completely alone in a lonely planet, devoid of any hope of escaping Hell itself. The sky was crimson as if bleeding from the wounds of attacks from asteroids, and the land appeared to be bleeding as well, sharing the sky's grief. Jagged rocks were scattered all over the planet, stabbing the lone figure's feet with each painful step. The mighty volcanoes would suffocate the land with their debris, and the lava that spouted from the very bowels of the Earth would crush all that would stand in its way, making way for the new, and destroying the old without mercy.

His body was weak, disfigured, and each painful step and each ragged breath showed that he was excruciatingly tired of life and death, and that only his will to persevere kept him from collapsing for the rest of eternity defeated like a helpless child in an unknown world. His bones were clearly visible through the lavender skin that was once so full of life, which once also shielded his mighty muscles of steel, once capable of rending almost anything to ruins. His once-vibrant smile had been replaced with a frown twisted into a scowl, and his tired eyes could hardly shed tears, for he had nearly dried them out with his pleas, his sorrow, his helplessness.

The once mighty warrior that led a clan of gargoyles for better or worse, the once vibrant soul feared, loved, and respected by many, had become a mindless shell carrying a dying soul. He aimlessly roamed the Earth without a purpose to exist, and each step brought him closer to his ultimate destruction. How much longer would it be until that small spark of life became extinguished by the winds of time and oblivion that clashed against his being, slowly disintegrating him to nothing? Only time would tell whether he would live with hope, live in death, or not live at all.

He was starved, dehydrated, as he had been for five hundred million years, and he longed for the water that would quench the thirst that threatened to destroy what little was left of his sanity, nearly as much as he longed to return home.

He grew weaker and weaker with each uneasy step, and after nights of refusing to succumb, his knees finally surrendered to the exhaustion and lack of energy. He collapsed, his body landing heavily as if burdened by chains of solitude, and he cried out in pain through sore vocal cords. The jagged rocks on the earth cut deep into his flesh and drew blood from weak, lavender skin. He cursed under his dry breath the memory of his prosecutor as he struggled to return to an upright position.

Many times, his body begged him for rest, at least for a brief moment, but his mind refused to surrender, for even one second of rest could mean eternal surrender. Once he managed to stand, after many failed attempts, he scanned the horizons for any sign of life, but nonexistence mocked him just as it had countless times in the past. He sighed in dismay and resumed his interminable quest. He would have given anything he ever had just for some food to tame his hunger and feed his strength, and some water to vanquish the thirst that refused to spare him further grief.

His tired eyes fell upon a boulder that appeared to be no different from the others. But that boulder was special for it harbored the claw marks from five hundred million years ago, the marks of his dying hope and burning anger that lay dormant in his soul. His scowl softened into a frown, and the tears burst forth once more. He had traveled the globe, only to end where it all began? Was he doomed to that cycle for all eternity?

"I… have… returned…"

His voice was dry and raw with thirst, exhaustion, and disuse, but the strength and passion of his hatred could still be heard in his voice. With a sigh and scarcely contained tears, he stumbled to the boulder, refusing to surrender to his exhaustion, and knelt in front of it, keeping his tired eyes to the ground, not daring to look at the beginning of his exile for it would only burden him with more pain.

"I… will… destroy… you…"

The words were spoken with the truest, most ardent hatred ever known as shattered reflections of his prosecutor flashed before his glowing eyes. How he had ruthlessly torn him from his family, from his time, all because of an artifact that meant nothing to the arrogant creature. How he had exiled him to that place, doomed to remain alone for eons, where he would be constantly dying a slow, undying death.

Those thoughts forced tears of pain and anger to rise. He tightened his fists as they began to tremble with emotional anguish. He shook his head fiercely, and held his face in his hands. The tears fell like droplets of rain down his sunken cheeks and stung his dry eyes. He finally broke down, sobbing helplessly, unable to stop his tears.

How he longed to return home in that moment of weakness was indescribable. How he wished that he had the power to tear open the gates of time and travel through the flames, and finally return home, to his clan, to his beloved goddess. How he wished that he could hug his fragile love, and tell her over and over that she was his life and his sun, that she gave him hope when all hope was lost, and that she was worth all the adversity that tormented him.

The thoughts of his beloved goddess nearly succeeded in blessing his once handsome face with a smile, but they failed, for nothing could make him smile, not when he was abandoned at the beginning of life, starved and parched, utterly alone, and forgotten.

Once he regained his composure and his tears finally ceased, he resumed staring at the boulder, remembering things that once were and would probably never be again, until he finally noticed the green substance that had sprouted from it. His tired eyes widened and his once proud jaw dropped. He crawled closer to the boulder, completely ignoring his pain, and he admired the moss that had covered his boulder of laments. He reached a trembling hand to it, felt it, and smiled for the first time in five hundred million years.

"Life… It is life…"

There stood the most beautiful thing he had seen in countless years, the one thing that promised life and prosperity for Earth for eons to come. It was a flower, a Lily, a deep crimson as blood freshly drawn with the most beautiful petals that showed traces of white and lavender at the tips. It was the first trace of beauty the Earth had ever shown and its mysterious presence joined by its unknown history only gave it beauty beyond the most eloquent words.

"My Lily…"

Suddenly, the Earth did not seem as lonely anymore for the exiled one, and suddenly, five hundred million years of adversity were worth suffering through for the true beginning of life. At last, nonexistence was cast aside to make way for existence and the hope of Hell at last becoming Paradise. Suddenly, he heard thunder shattering across the sky after the power of lightning made its grand entrance, above clouds of a crimson shade that now held the shade of rain, for they held the precious liquid of life, soon to be scattered across the Earth.

"It cannot be…"

And at last, from the sky bled a droplet of water. He smiled broadly, and his soul seemed to soar with an emotion he had taken for granted once before, an emotion he had thought forgotten: happiness. The skies at last wept tears of joy and released their liquid throughout the land as rain, healing the bleeding Earth, soothing its wounds, and the oceans would soon form.

The nameless soul closed his eyes and welcomed the rain with open arms. He was drenched completely, the blessed liquid returned life to dry skin, and he drank until he could not drink any more as he danced beneath the stars that shone above. His laughter echoed through any mountains nearby and he vowed that he would return to the future, his past and once his present time, to join his beloved goddess and prosecute the one who had prosecuted him, for he had regained his purpose.

Because for the life that now existed and would soon exist, and for all that would exist throughout the eons, he would live in life and would no longer wander through the valleys of despair in undying death.

As he laughed joyously without a care in the world, and as he danced beneath the stars and beneath the tears of joy from the sky, he came across something. His laughter ceased and faded into the distance to join his cries of agony and despair from eons ago and he lowered his gaze to see what had interrupted his dance of triumph and happiness. What he saw awakened memories long thought forgotten that just as there was life, there would, ultimately, be death…

It was a skull.

To Be Continued


End file.
